we can colour in the echoes
by kahlen369
Summary: When her ex-wife brings home their wayward son after his ill-advised trip, blonde curls falling over her eyes and a tentative smile as she says her goodbyes, Regina will offer a glass of cider as thanks. And Emma will say, echoing times past, "The best cider I've ever had?" (Divorced Lesbian Mommies AU)
1. The Phone Call

Regina had been beside herself with worry, typical mayoral facade gone in the face of her son's disappearance. Hands shaking, she had started barking furious orders at the Sheriff, which he'd patiently taken, with a ridiculous look of understanding on his face. When nothing had turned up, and she'd stepped back inside the mayoral mansion, Regina had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown, only belated realizing she ought to call her ex-wife with the news.

That was when Emma had called first instead.

"Uh, Regina?" Even through the crackle of static, the voice was achingly familiar.

There was an awkward pause, as Regina struggled to gain her bearings enough to reply, with a short cough, "Yes?"

"Look, I'm not sure how, but, well, Henry's _here_." Emma spoke, the inflection in her tone showing her own disbelief over the situation.

It was nothing compared to what Regina felt though.

" _What?!_ " Regina shrieked, a deafening noise that made Emma cringe on the other side of the call. "In _Boston_?"

"Yeah, he took the bus, apparently." The other woman explained, as she rushed to reassure. "He's fine, Regina. Not a scratch on him. In fact, he's drinking me out of my orange juice right now."

Slowly, she allowed herself to relax with the thought that Henry was fine and safe with her ex-wife (his other mother, she thought). The attempt at humor was just like Emma, and she gave a small choked laugh. " _Of course_ , he is." _He has your appetite_ , Regina wanted to say, before she remembered herself.

There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line, as though Emma had heard it anyway. She didn't say anything more though. Instead, she announced, "Anyway, I'll be taking him back to Storybrooke now."

Relief washed over her at the pronouncement, and if she hadn't already been sitting down, she would have certainly as she felt her legs buckle underneath her. "Thank you." Regina managed to breathe out.

"No problem." Emma replied easily. "We'll be headed out soon. I'll text you when we're near."

"Not while driving, I hope." Regina spoke, tone teasing in a way it had not been for a long time. It was instinctive and out of he mouth before she could stop herself. Inside, she cursed herself. It was always so _easy_ to lose herself with Emma, as though no time had passed at all, and they were still the happily married couple they once were.

Once more, Emma gave a short laugh. The sound made her neck tingle, and think of a time when those had been so easy to come by. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the other woman there, lips pressed close to her ear as she laughed.

"Don't worry." Her ex-wife's voice came from the phone, breaking her from her thoughts of days long past. "I know better than to text and drive. I'll do it when we stop for gas."

There was a pause, and a slight crackle on the other end that must've been Henry speaking, as Emma clearly replied, amused. "And bathroom breaks too, yeah."

Regina smiled despite herself, and once again, she could not help but think of old times. Henry and Emma had always shared a special rapport, once she always claimed was because Emma was essentially an overgrown child herself.

All teasing aside however, she knew that because of her past, Emma had always been wary of becoming a mother. Regina had been the same. But between the two of them, they had managed with Henry. Lost in memory, she had nearly forgotten about the real Emma she was still on the phone with, until she spoke once more.

"Anyway, we'll see you soon."

Regina nodded in response before she realized the other woman would not see it. Flushing slightly, she replied. "Of course. Have a safe trip." She added, with a hint of concern, remembering all too well the car Emma continued to choose to drive.

"Your trust in my Bug is well appreciated, Gina." Emma only said dryly, before she finally concluded. " _Bye_."

"Goodbye." Regina managed to reply, before the phone clicked, and she was left with the overbearing silence of the empty mansion once again. It didn't feel quite as oppressive now that she knew Henry was safe and would be returning shortly, but it still felt deafening in the midst of her rattled nerves.

She could not help but remember a time when the house was always filled with noise, from either Henry or Emma. The memory of it was so strong that if Regina could swear she saw them just there in the corner of her eyes. Her heart clenched, and she shook her head, trying to banish the ghosts from her mind.

Briefly, she wondered if she should call Graham over, perhaps. He was still out looking from Henry so she should certainly at least inform him of the new development. Maybe they could do it in person. Now that she had calmed down, she could appreciate how good he'd been about the whole situation, as both sheriff of the town and the man she'd been discreetly involved with for some time now. No one knew yet, except perhaps Henry did, and that was why he had suddenly run away to Emma, still a week away from her next scheduled visit.

Perhaps it was a bad idea then, to call him over. But the silence was suffocating, and she itched with the need to chase away the ghosts the continued to creep up on her after everything that had happened today, the stress of it all catching up to her in a wave of exhaustion and weakness.

So, Graham came over. He was appropriately relieved at the news that Henry was fine, and just a little concerned over Emma's involvement, supposedly for her sake. Perhaps it was even true. Regina felt brittle, all the hollows in her heart gaping open, after a single static-filled phone conversation.

She allowed herself the comfort of her lover's arms, and ignored the pang of guilt, of wrongness that seemed to be echoed in the eyes of a ghostly Emma that remained standing in the corner of her vision. Instead, she closed her eyes and allowed Graham's name to fall from her lips.


	2. The Wait and the Arrival

The promised texts had been delivered in roughly hourly intervals, quick reassurances about their safety coupled with vague estimates about how much further they had to go. All peppered with the same ridiculous emoticons that had always made Regina roll her eyes (even though she'd secretly found it endearing). Despite her attempts to fight it, she had not been able to stop the fond smile from creeping on her face. It drew raised brows from Graham, which she chose to pretend not to see.

They made the wait a little more bearable, though Regina still felt restless, unable to stop from looking towards the door and windows even though she knew there was no way they had arrived yet. Graham tried futilely to distract her. At one point, he'd started peppering kisses on her neck. But his touch felt strange, foreign. Though she tried to relax into it, she could not release the tension in her core. Even Graham could tell, though he jumped to a different reason for it.

"Still worried about Henry, huh?" It was a statement more than a question. There was a look of understanding and concern on his face that Regina did not feel she deserved it. She accepted it anyway, because it was easier than trying to vocalize the jumble of emotions inside her.

"Sorry." Regina apologized sincerely, resting a hand on his shoulder and trying to calm the guilt that bubbled up inside her. "I can't stop thinking about him." The brunette admitted. It was true, though his blonde mother was also on her mind when she thought of him. She didn't mention it though-she never did.

"He'll be here soon."

Along with Emma, she thought, heart heavy with emotion. Outwardly, she only nodded, allowing herself to get dragged into a question about town policies, as she placated Graham's clumsy attempts at getting her mind of her worry.

When the talk started going into the minutiae of the paperwork, she wryly considered that the kissing would've been a better option than this. Still, she made no attempt to engage the sheriff in anything other than an increasingly dry conversation on the endlessly frustrating bureaucratic aspects of their work. Though Graham himself looked like he was regretting starting on such a topic, he gamely kept up with her as her perfectionist streak had her making more than a few critiques regarding his own performance with paperwork.

The conversation recalled previous ones she'd had with Emma, back when she'd been in the sheriff's office instead. Unlike Graham, the blonde had never taken her critiques seriously, always ready with snarky comment to shoot back instead. At the time, it had always infuriated her. But now, faced with the new sheriff's easy acquiescence, she could not help but miss the fight a little. It was all too true, she thought, that you never knew what you had until it was gone.

* * *

It was many hours later before they finally arrived. The sound of tires screeching had her up from her seat before she'd even heard the car horn announcing their presence. Mid-conversation with Graham, she'd trailed off without even realizing as she eagerly headed for the door. The sheriff followed after her without complaint, only a few steps behind, not that she even noticed.

The yellow monstrosity of a vehicle her ex-wife continued to drive, even though she could well afford not to, was parked on her driveway, looking unsightly and out-of-place amidst the picture perfect rose bushes and picket-fenced houses. It looked just as out-of-place as the woman in bright red leather jacket who soon stepped out.

Emma, she thought, stuck still for a moment, as she drank in the blonde curls, the pale face stretched into an expression that must have mirrored the one on her own. Even though Regina had known it would happen, the sight of the other woman so close to the home they'd once shared still seemed like a strange, unexpected scenario.

Dimly, she was aware of Graham stepping into view, next to her, mostly by the way Emma's expression shifted into a frown of barely concealed mistrust and distaste. There was something like betrayal too, lurking in those bright green depths. But Regina could not bear to look too closely anymore.

Then, Henry popped into view, and her world become only her son. Quickly striding forward, she pulled the boy into a tight hug, almost unable to let go, the irrational fear that he would somehow disappear if she did creeping into her. For several long moments, she held him tight, hand in his hair, murmuring a mixture of assurances and admonitions. Henry took it all like a statue, remaining stiff in his mother's arms, though his hands twitched as though he had to restrain himself from not hugging back instinctively.

It hurt, for him to act so coldly, especially after he had so suddenly run away without a word. The part of her that had always so feared this moment, the part that was Cora's daughter, trembled and quailed. But the rest of her, forced herself to lock away her ache as she put on a calm facade.

Finally, Regina let her son go enough to be able to face him properly. Still crouched down so that they were nearly level, she asked him seriously, disbelief clear in her tone. "Henry, what were you thinking?"

The boy would not meet her eyes, looking away with his lips turned down in a stubborn frown that Regina recognized all too well. Arms crossed, he answered bitterly, "I wanted Ma." Not you. The implication was another blow to her heart, but she forced herself not to react.

Instead, she pointed out calmly, "If you wanted to see your other mother earlier, you should have asked me first. We could have come to a new arrangement."

"Like you would say yes!" Henry retorted angrily. "You don't want me to see her. You hate it whenever I stay with Ma."

Regina could not completely deny it. Ever since the divorce, sharing Henry had become a complicated affair. Unlike most divorce couples, they'd come to custody arrangements had been hammered out between them without too much bloodshed. Despite some initial instinctive protests, Emma had eventually agreed to give Regina sole physical custody of Henry, as the mansion was the only home he'd ever known, and his schooling would be better off if he weren't shipped off to live in Boston every other week.

Even so, he did spend quite some time there for scheduled visits to Emma. As part of the visitation arrangements they hammered out, Henry took a trip to stay with Emma for the weekend at least once a month, and typical more, when his schedule permitted it. Regina wasn't entirely happy about the trips, but considering she got the better end of the deal, she had kept any complaints quiet.

It was far from perfect, but they tried their best to make it work, for Henry's sake. So far, their brief meetings during drop-offs and pick-ups had all been perfectly civil, if unusually cold and polite for a relationship like theirs. Clearly, Henry had picked up on it, despite their best attempts to keep a good front up. Though why he was only blaming her and not Emma, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. The voice in her head, which sounded entirely too much like Mother, was already saying enough.

Regina did not know what to say. The truth was too complicated for any ten-year-old boy, no matter how much Henry seemed to think otherwise. But she wasn't sure she had it in her to lie, to pretend that this wasn't hurting her as much as it was clearly hurting her son. Before she could say anything, Henry ran inside the house.

Frozen in place, she could only watch him disappear wordlessly, heart thumping uselessly in her chest.


	3. The Reunion

In the wake of Henry's abrupt departure, the three remaining adults stood in tense silence.

Finally, it was Graham who broke the tension, turning to Regina as he offered softly, "I can go check on him."

Considering what had just transpired between her and her son, perhaps it was for the best. Regina wasn't sure she could handle another confrontation, not when it seemed likely to end in one or both of their breakdowns as a result. Nodding slowly, she told him, "Thank you."

The sheriff offered a reassuring smile, giving her hand a brief squeeze, before he too disappeared inside the mansion. Regina watched his retreating back for a moment, before her gaze swiveled onto the only other person still outside. _Emma_.

Perhaps sending Graham off had been a mistake. If a confrontation with Henry sounded disastrous, than one with her ex-wife seemed like an even worse mistake. Certainly, Emma's demeanor didn't exactly bode well. With her hands shoved into the pockets of her leather jacket and her posture tense and hunched as though for a fight, she looked like a rebellious teenager about to commit some kind of crime. Her typically bright green eyes were stormy, almost dark grey in the dim porchlight.

Regina frowned, not entirely sure what had brought about such a dark mood. Henry seemed to like _her_ perfectly fine still, she thought, not without some bitterness. It was unfair, she knew, to blame Emma for that. Their son was clearly taking their separation hard, and though he seemed to hold her unfairly accountable for it, for some reason, it wasn't as though her ex-wife had been spreading lies about her. She _hoped_ , anyway.

It wasn't as though such tactics were unusual in divorce proceedings, if the horror stories she'd been bombarded with by concerned acquaintances meant anything. Emma would never stab her behind the back like that though. Stab in her in the _front_ , maybe, but such manipulative subterfuge was honestly more her style than her ex-wife's.

Proving her complete inability to be subtle, Emma bluntly noted, "So. Graham, huh?"

Regina stiffened immediately at the words, and their implication. The reason behind the blonde's mood became obvious, and she _almost_ wished it had been about Henry instead. Her arms wrapped around herself defensively, the instinct to lash out on the tip of her tongue. But Regina did not want another fight, not after the one she'd just had with her son. _Their_ son. So, instead, she took a deep breath to steady herself, before she said slowly, "I didn't plan for you to find out like this."

"Then how?" Emma asked, green eyes burrowing into hers in accusation that did not quite bury the hurt. "When I got an invitation to your wedding?"

Regina shook her head immediately. With a hint of exasperation, she explained, "We've only been seeing each other for a few months." Frowning, she added. "Frankly, we haven't told _anyone_ yet."

The blonde raised a skeptical brow. "If that's how you two have been acting around each other, I don't think you need to bother."

Promises to maintain her calm were hard to keep in the face of Emma's ridiculous assertions. Gritting her teeth, she said pointedly, "I assure you, _Sheriff Humbert_ and I have been very careful to keep a strictly platonic relationship in public."

And they had. As far as they were aware, no one had any inkling that they were anything more than colleagues and friends. But what did _they_ know, Regina thought sarcastically, compared to a woman who had not stepped foot in Storybrooke for over a year now?

"Considering you called me Miss Swan for like, six months, into our relationship, that really doesn't mean as much as you think it does." Emma pointed out, before adding, with slight smirk. "Then it was Sheriff Swan instead, for like another eight. I guess sheriffs are just your type, aren't they?"

"A _coincidence_ , I assure you." The brunette rolled her eyes with an exasperated huff. "I see your ego has only built up in the absence of my helpful remarks."

"You mean all your snippy _insults_." The other woman corrected testily. " _Shockingly_ , I have actually enjoyed the peace and silence, and _don't_ miss all the constant blows to my self esteem at all."

Regina bristled at the sarcastic words falling from the blonde's lips. _The sheer audacity!_ She was ready to let loose with a few words of her own, when she caught another glimpse of those green eyes, and the hurt beneath the anger that was all too clear to someone who truly knew her. The sight was like a punch to her gut, and she abruptly deflated, all anger gone. There was only a bone-deep tiredness in its wake. Wearily, she shook her head, as she plead softly, "Emma, I don't want to fight."

It seemed as though her weariness was contagious, or perhaps Emma simply did not see the point in fighting someone who did not fight back. Either way, the other woman's shoulders slumped as well, the fire fleeing out of her.

"You're right." Emma chuckled humorlessly. "You're always right, of course."

 _Not always_ , Regina thought, but didn't say, knowing the reminder would do no nothing but spark another fight they no longer had the endurance to keep up.

Clearly, Emma felt the same way, because she was shaking her head, as she said. "I should leave."

The mayor continued remain silent, unable to vocalize the myriad of responses such an announcement brought. She could only look on wordlessly, nails digging into her skin as she fought the dual urge to say something- _anything_ -and the need to keep her fragile calm lest she let something damning slip out from her traitorous mouth.

Emma seemed to sense her internal battle. There was a sad smile, a fragile, tentative thing that seemed like it would break any moment. "Goodbye, Regina." It was resigned, defeated, for a woman who always raised her fists in any fight.

Then, she was turning around, walking away ( _again_ ), and it all seemed far too final, more than Regina could bear. Her useless heart thumped loudly in her ears, as she opened her traitorous mouth to cry out, "Emma, _wait!_ "

The woman stopped in her tracks. Slowly, as though unsure of what she heard, she turned back to face the brunette. Those beautiful green eyes were looking uncertainly at her.

Swallowing, Regina managed to make herself spit out, "Stay."

This time, it was Emma who stayed silent. She looked like she could hardly believe what she was hearing. Neither could Regina, if she was being completely honest. This was a terrible idea, she knew. Not only was _Graham_ still inside the house, but so was _Henry_. Even so, Regina could not help her next words.

"Why don't you come inside for a drink?" The suggestion came out far more easily than it should've under the circumstances. Caught up in the moment, her lips twitched into a ghost of a smirk. "You can have some of my cider."

Green eyes lit up, sparkling in the night. Just as ensnared in the moment, Emma asked, deliberately echoing the past with a quick grin, "The best cider I'll ever have?"

Despite herself, Regina smiled.


	4. The Study

They entered almost exactly the same time, with Emma just a step behind her and brushing against her shoulder as they both squeezed through the door. The brief contact was enough to send sparks across her skin and memory.

Regina was all too aware, suddenly, of how _intimately_ she had once known the other woman. Her tongue had once skated across that skin, and she'd kissed every freckle on her back like she was counting stars. Even now, she could still recall the curve of her breasts and the junction between her hips as well as her own. Those fingers had once been _inside_ her, the brunette realized abruptly, and every innocent gesture made during the conversation suddenly seemed far from it.

Her cheeks were flushing, Regina was sure, as the heat seemed to travel all over her. At least the other woman seemed similarly flustered. It was a surprisingly calming thought, to know that she wasn't alone in this, at least. So, managing a mostly sincere smile at Emma, the mayor swiftly made her way to the study, trusting her ex-wife to remember the way as well.

When they arrived, Regina made a beeline for the cider she kept on the shelves. Then, she busied herself with grabbing two glass tumblers and pouring out enough cider for the both of them.

Emma kept silent as she half-watched her work and half-glanced around the study. Sharp eyes noted all the small differences from the last time she'd been there. Most notably, the absence of _any_ photos with the two of them. It was hardly an unexpected revelation, but she could not help but feel a little punched in the gut. Though it was not the same, the young girl inside her that had once been handed off from " _family_ " to " _family_ " could not help feeling abandoned and erased by the action.

Outwardly, she tried not to let it show. But Regina noticed immediately, eyes following hers towards frames that now held different photographs inside them. There was a noticeable falter to her steps, when she approached with the glasses.

"Emma…" Regina said hesitantly, before trailing off, clearly unsure what to say. What could she say? Nothing could make things better.

"Forget it." Emma shook her head, forcing a smile on her face that probably looked about as unconvincing as it felt if the expression on the other woman's face was any indication. "Anyway, the drink?"

It was a pathetically obvious change of topic, but Regina went along with it. Offering one of the glasses to her ex-wife, she managed a more sincere, if slightly strained, smile. " _Here._ Cider from my personal collection, dear."

When Emma took the glass from her, there was that same brief _spark_ as their fingers brushed against each other. It was enough to make her nearly drop the glass, but the other woman was able to catch it just in time.

At least it was enough to break the tension between them, as Emma broke into a teasing grin, eyes twinkling with mirth. " _Careful_. Wouldn't want to break your expensive china."

Regina shook her head, recalling more than one occasion when Emma had done just that. It had caused more than a few fights between them, then. Clearly, her ex-wife was savoring the shoe being put on the other foot. Declining to comment further, Regina merely took a sip of the cider, feeling the satisfying burn down her throat.

The blonde took the cue, taking a long sip of her own, savoring the familiar heady taste. It had been too long since she'd last tasted it, really, and she'd missed it. "Still the _best_ cider I've ever had."

"You flatter me." Regina rebutted, though the twitch of her lips belied her flat tone.

" _I mean it!_ " Emma insisted, before adding with a grin. "Of course, cider isn't really the drink of choice in most Bostonian bars..."

"...And the real reason comes to light." The brunette concluded wryly.

Emma chuckled briefly, before the two of them lapsed into comfortable silence. Regina had settled into one end of the sofa in the study, while her ex-wife took the other end. There was enough space between them that it wasn't too intimate, but not much so that it felt cold or awkward. They drank the cider in silence, both lost in their respective thoughts, but enjoying the company nonetheless.

It was nice, almost like old times, and Emma didn't want to break it. But as usual, her mouth opened before she could stop herself. "Henry asked me to stay."

Instantly, Regina whipped her head around to face her. She stared wide-eyed at her, looking so comically surprised that Emma might've laughed, if she didn't have to say the next words. "He wanted me to come back to Storybrooke with him. _Permanently_."

The expression on the brunette's face was unreadable, mayoral mask of blankness firmly in place. In carefully neutral tones, she asked, "What did you tell him?"

"That I _couldn't_." There was such a tortured look in Emma's eyes as she said it that Regina placed a comforting hand on the other woman instinctively. Even when she felt that familiar jolt down her spine, she didn't pull away.

Not when she could guess at what happened next. Looking at the blonde carefully, the mayor hazarded, "He didn't take it well."

"It went a lot like your conversation on the front yard, yeah." Emma confirmed, chuckling ruefully.

They lapsed into silence once more, but the comfort and ease was gone. In its place was a heaviness that seemed all too characteristic of their lives as of late. These days, it felt like there was a private storm cloud that was always bringing gloom to the scattered Swan-Mills family. Regina could remember a time what that wasn't so, and she could not help but wonder where those days had gone. Even though she knew perfectly well what had happened, and that they could never turn back.

But maybe they could move forward. For _Henry's_ sake, if not theirs. No matter what happened, he was, and would always be, their first priority.

So, quietly, hesitantly, Regina suggested, "Maybe you could stay?"

Emma turned at her, blinking confusedly. " _What?_ "

"You could stay a week, at least. It's almost your time with him anyway." Regina explained reasonably, in the same calm mayoral tone she used to convince constituents of her programs' effectiveness. "There's not much point in going back to Boston just to come back so soon, is there?"

Despite such logic, Emma was not so easily convinced. Frowning a little, she said, "I guess so. But I'd have to take time off work, and this will end up cutting into my total visitation days, won't it?"

Regina paused, before saying slowly, "Not necessarily. We could consider this a special occasion." Meeting bright green eyes, she added hesitantly. "Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?"

It wasn't really a question. Regina knew exactly when the date was, and even had a gift she'd already purchased a few weeks ago. Having grown up in the system, Emma had never really celebrated her birthday, so when they together, Regina had always tried to give them the importance they should have deserved. Even though they were divorced now, the brunette still wanted to do the same. Everyone deserved to have their birthday be special, she thought.

Emma was looking at her, the same lost look in those green eyes that had always made her want to hold her in her arms and never let go. There was a long moment of silence, where the blonde seemed at a loss for words, and Regina had to resist the urge to touch her ex-wife.

Finally, Emma said, barely above a whisper. " _Okay._ "

Regina caught it anyway. There was a warm feeling spreading inside her at the response, but she had to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." The blonde nodded, before announcing, louder this time, "I'll stay the week."

" _Okay_." Regina echoed, a soft smile on her face that Emma copied, if a little bashfully. For all her brashness, at her core, there was the tender heart of a lost girl who could never quite believe in good things.

There was a time when Regina had hoped to be able to change that, to be the _good_ that Emma could believe in again. That time was long past now, but perhaps they could still do some good together.

* * *

There wasn't much to say after that. It was getting late too, and Emma would still need to check in at Granny's if she was planning on staying for the week. For a moment, when Emma had suggested it, Regina had wanted to say no,

Part of her had wanted to offer the home they had once shared together. They had a guest room in the house, after all. It wouldn't be the same. But that was the point, wasn't it? It _wasn't_ the same. Staying in the same house would do nothing but confuse Henry and give him false hope for something that could never be again. So, instead, she had nodded along, and kept her silence.

Then, she'd walked Emma to the door.

"You can see Henry tomorrow, after school." Regina suggested. "Come over to the house. We can all have dinner together."

"Okay." Her ex-wife nodded easily, grinning with a lightness she had not seen in some time. "I'll see you soon."

"Tomorrow, then." Regina confirmed, and Emma gave one last smile, before she walked away.

The brunette watched her get into that ridiculous yellow Bug and start the engine. As Emma drove away, the sound of the engine and tires screeching echoed in the deserted suburban streets. The cool night air bit into her skin, and Regina shivered, but could not could make herself leave, not until the car was long gone.


	5. The Sheriff

**A/N: This chapter has a lot of Graham in it... because it's basically just a long conversation with him.**

* * *

Forcing Emma out of her mind for the night, Regina slowly walked back inside, only pausing to secure the door before she went up the steps to Henry's bedroom. As she approached, she could see the lights close, Graham just stepping out and shutting the door.

When he caught sight of her, he closed the distance swiftly. Though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer, she knew she had to ask, "How is Henry?"

"He's fine." Graham answered, garnering a faint, skeptical frown from Regina. Caught in his white lie, he amended, with a small grimace. "He's… still angry."

Though the brunette expected it, she could not help but deflate at the response just the same. Glancing at the closed door to his bedroom, she frowned, brow furrowing as she pictured her son, angrily sulking, just behind the door.

It was an image that made her heart ache, one that made her want to rush into the room and envelope her little prince in a tight hug as though she could shelter him from the world and all its pain. She wanted to return to those sunny days when he was much younger, and she could press kisses on his bruises that would heal his pain and dry his tears and soothe his aches.

But those days were long gone. Her boy was growing up and seeing that the world was not the bright and rosy place he once believed it was. There was pain and heartbreak, and she knew it was her fault that it was so. Hers and Emma's.

It was always the children who paid for the sins of their parents.

That was a lesson she'd learned long ago, as Cora's daughter, as her spidery hands laid bruises over her skin and heart. Throughout her years, she was the perennial bad girl, in need of Mother's firm hand and guidance. No matter what she did, no matter how she tried, she was never good enough, and always in need of _punishment_ for the heavy crime of being herself.

For a long time, she had believed there was no escape from Mother. Some days, she believed it was still true. Because even though she was no longer physically there, she could still hear Mother's dismissive criticisms in her ear, still hear the disapproving tuts whenever she did something wrong. That voice rang in her head now, filled with enough ice to chill her veins.

Before Regina could spiral completely into the toxic embrace of her mother's ghost, there was a warm hand on her shoulder. It grounded her, forcing her back to the present, instead of a past she could never completely leave behind. Forcing her gaze away from the door and back towards him, she found such a look of concern on his face, she could not stop herself from flinching back.

"Are you alright?" He asked, eyes filled with that damnable look of understanding again. Some days, it soothed her, the way he seemed to understand without words the darkness, the brokenness, of her. Other times, she could only bristle, defenses springing, at the way he would handle her, as though she were one of the skittish wild animals he'd once taken care of.

It stung at her pride, and Regina shrugged off his touch, biting out tersely, " _I'm fine._ "

Even if she wasn't, she didn't need him to take care of her like a sick child. Recalling the way she'd fallen into his attempts at comfort earlier today, she mentally winced. That had been a moment of weakness, after she'd been so shaken up with Henry's disappearance and her ex-wife's phone call. This wasn't the same thing, and she didn't need him with this.

Sensing that she no longer wished to continue the topic, he switched tracks. Unfortunately, the one he chose next was not much better. "Of course, Regina. So, how was Emma?"

Freezing at the question, she felt a sudden stab of guilt, before she forced it down. It wasn't as though anything had happened between them. There was no reason for her to feel like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Hoping her expression did not betray any of the emotions she was feeling, Regina said as calmly as she could (which was less than she hoped). "She's fine as well."

The lie was not much more believable the second time, but Graham only nodded, seemingly taking the answer at face value. For that, Regina was grateful. Even if she was being " _handled_ ", perhaps it was for the best. She did not think she could took any more turns on the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on all day.

It was never to be, though, because the Fates could never grant her even a brief reprieve, and the next question out of the sheriff's mouth had her freezing in place again.

"Is she driving back to Boston tonight?"

Regina realized belatedly that she had not given any thought to Graham's reaction over Emma staying in town. That had been an oversight, clearly. At the time, she'd been more focused on Henry's undoubtedly elated reaction, and her own complicated mix of feelings to even remember her current lover's place in the hole tangled web.

Coughing lightly to cover her surprise, Regina started hesitantly, "Ah, about that." Her expression shifted into something almost apologetic, as she admitted. "She's actually staying in Storybrooke for the week."

Graham's brows rose in surprise. "Oh, _really?_ "

There wasn't any accusation in it, really, but Regina could not help feeling slightly defensive anyway, not after everything that had already happened today left her needing her emotional armor more than ever. Still, Regina tried not to sound too pointed as she explained, "We agreed that since her time with him is nearly here anyway, there was little point in leaving, just to come back."

Of course, typically, it was she who traveled to Boston to drop Henry off and not the other way around, but there was no need to explain the details of his child custody agreement with the man.

As he always seemed to, Graham only nodded agreeably, commenting lightly, "That makes sense." Tilting his head a little, he asked curiously, "Where will she be saying?"

He didn't outright ask it, but was he wondering if her ex-wife would be staying at the manor? Regina wasn't sure, but she still answered firmly, "She'll be staying at Granny's."

"Alright. I guess I'll be seeing her around this week, then." Graham did not treat her answer with much of a reaction, and with his next words being so ambiguous, the brunette was left wondering what was going on in the man's mind. It was frustrating, not being able to read the Irishman better.

"Yes, you likely will." Regina concurred, adding, with hint of reminder, "She'll be around the house to have dinner with Henry and I as well."

Graham got the hidden meaning immediately, well used to her methods of covertly speaking about their affair, even in the safety of her own home, by now. "Of course. I'll make sure no one bothers you then, Madame Mayor." There was just the hint of teasing in his tone, as well as a question.

If he was hoping she would extend the invitation to him as well, however, he would be disappointed. "I would appreciate that, sheriff." Regina said firmly, before softening slightly as she added, "Thank you for your help today, with Henry."

"It was my pleasure, Regina." He replied, dropping the pretense of formality as he smiled at her. It did not waver, not even as he reassured her, with far more confidence than she could ever convincingly fake, even with all her practice. "Don't worry. Henry will come around-just give him some time."

The brunette wasn't quite so certain, because there were some wounds that even time could not heal, as she well knew. Shaking her head slightly, she asked, the tiniest bit hopeful, "Did Henry say anything to you?"

It was his turn to shake his head, as he admitted, with a rueful frown, "He wouldn't really talk to me."

There was a look of disappointment on his face, as though he had expected otherwise. Henry had always been friendly enough with him, after the initial friction that had come with him taking what used to be his other mother's job, that is. But there was a large difference between talking about homework or school and talking about a complicated issue like this.

After a short sigh, he added, "The only time he spoke was to tell me to leave him alone, so I finally left."

Regina nodded, unsurprised at such a turn of events. It would be easier, and maybe even better, if Henry had opened up to the man, but her son was too much like both his mothers for something like that to ever happen. In fact, she doubted he would open up to her either. But she had to try.

Her eyes flickered back to the door, and she hesitated briefly, before saying with a firmness she did not quite feel, "I should go talk to him."

Graham nodded, "I should get going myself. I'll let myself out."

With that, he moved close enough to give her a short chaste peck goodbye, before he headed back down the stairs. Regina watched him leave, feeling her lips tingle from where he'd kissed her. Then, she turned around and headed for her son's room, trying to quell the anxiety forming inside her as she got closer.

It was the right thing to do, she knew. It was what she wanted to do, but she was also wary-no, afraid really, if she was perfectly honest-of what such a conversation would entail. Regina wasn't sure there was a way for them to do it without hurting each other more. But she had to try. For both their sake.


	6. The Son

**A/N: Implications of child abuse. Also, Regina kind of has a breakdown.**

* * *

When she finally entered the room, quietly twisting the knob on the door, the scene inside was what she expected. Henry was on the bed, his back turned towards the door. She could see there was something in his hands, that he was seemingly focusing all his attention on, though by the way he tensed his shoulders it was clear he knew she was there.

Once again, her heart hurt for her son, for the pain so clear beneath his anger. Regina was the same way. Not for the first time (and likely not the last), she wished she had something better to give him. This was his inheritance, a lifetime of negative emotions he would have no better way to let out. She wanted to think she was a better mother than hers had been, at least, because she loved Henry more than anything and would never lay a hand on him.

But how many wounds had she left by holding onto him so tightly? As a girl, she'd wanted nothing more than to run away from her mother. A few times, she had even tried. Eventually, she had succeeded. Would history repeat itself with Henry? It had already begun to, hadn't it?

Fists clenching, Regina forced herself away from such trains of thought. The important thing was that his son was here with her now. He was here, safe and sound, no worse for the wear, she told herself. Yes, was perfectly _fine_ -save for the fact that he was so clearly deeply unhappy. Just like she was.

Her heart clenched again, but she forced herself to move. Slowly, she made her way to the bed, until she was close enough that she could see the object in his hands was a book.

It was a large, hardbound book of high quality, one that she had never seen before, and could not recall buying for him. There were words typed in a flowing, curling script, but what most caught one's eye were the large illustrated drawings in the center. From what she could gleam, it seemed to depict some sort of fantasy world, like something from a classic fairytale. Before she could see more, or try to decipher what the story was about though, small hands quickly closed the book shut with a thud.

Frowning at the action, as well as the unfamiliar object itself, she immediately questioned, a little more sternly than she intended, as images of strangers offering up books to lure him into a false sense of security before they kidnapped him (or worse) flashed before her eyes. "Henry, where did you get that book?"

Almost immediately, Henry cradled said book defensively to his chest, clearly afraid his mother would snatch it away. He was clutching it so tightly, he was like leaving marks on the cover with his nails. Shaking his head, he answered, "It was a _gift_."

Alarm bells rung in her mind, and now a patchwork silhouette of predators entered her mind, ratcheting her fear and worry. Who had dared to approach her son? There was anger now too, a vicious, rattling thing that burned in her chest. Staring her son firmly in the eyes, she demanded, in uncertain terms, "From _who?_ " Whoever they were, they would pay dearly for daring to even try to do something to her precious baby.

"No one." Henry replied stubbornly, nails digging even deeper into the book, as he ground out tensely. "Just _forget it_ , already!"

There was a volatile cocktail of emotions running through right now, after everything that had already happened today. This was the straw that broke the camel's back.

 _"Henry Daniel Mills!_ " She finally snapped, practically screeching and instinctively grabbing at the boy's arms as though trying to shake some sense into him. "I am your _mother_ -and you will tell me _what suicidal idiotic predator you are stubbornly protecting!_ "

It was only when Henry flinched away from her, hands holding up the book like a shield that Regina realized what she was doing. Ever wary of turning into Cora, she had always been so, so careful to never direct her fury at him, and to never ever touch him in her anger. She got angry at him, of course, but she always made sure to keep her tones calm, to explain to him what he did wrong and to always remind him afterwards that she loved him no matter what he did to anger her.

Her anger dissipated immediately, replaced by a wave of shame and guilt and horror. The hands gripping him let go, and she was momentarily relieved to see that she had not grabbed him hard enough to leave marks, at least. But that was quickly overshadowed by more guilt, because even if there were no physical scars, there would always be mental and emotional ones. Wasn't she proof enough of that?

Quickly moving away from him, she started stammering, all her usual eloquence gone, as she tried desperately to make things right, "Henry-I d-didn't mean-I'm so _sorry_ -" Backing away further, she was even more horrified to discover that her vision was blurring, as tears formed in her eyes.

Henry could only stare wide-eyed at her, like she'd somehow turned into an alien creature before his eyes. He had never seen his Mom _cry_ before, not so blatantly in front of him (sneaking into the hall and hearing sobs through the study door was not the same, not at all, he found). It was turning out to be a very unsettling sight and experience.

After the initial flinch of fear and pain from her nails digging into his skin had passed, Henry had known it was just an accident. For all her faults, he knew his mother would never hurt him, not deliberately. Even when he swore he hated her, for everything she did, for breaking apart their family and stealing their happy ending, he still knew _that_.

But _she_ didn't seem to. The mother he'd always seen as being as steady as a stone statue (and sometimes, as cold too), was breaking down before his eyes. He didn't ever want to see it again, and his inwardly, his resolve only hardened. This was why he needed to make sure his Ma stayed forever. So they could all get their happy endings back again.

Swallowing, he said slowly, "Mom, I know you would _never_ hurt me on purpose."

After what she'd done, his mother would not meet his gaze, furiously swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand as though he could not still see the tear tracks on her cheeks that were evidence of her breakdown. At his words though, her head whipped up, and she looked at him with wide, wet eyes. " _Henry_ …"

She breathed out his name like she couldn't quite believe it, like he'd done something incredible. In her eyes, he had. Even after everything, he still believed in her. There were no words to say what an incredible and precious gift that was.

Emboldened by his words, she managed to speak past the lump in her throat, "My little prince, I love you so, _so_ much."

Her eyes turned watery again, and her arms ached with the need to hold him, but after what she'd just done, even after what he'd just said, she did not want to risk it. She still remembered too, the way he held himself so the last time she'd held him, earlier tonight by the driveway. So, she kept her hands clutching at the bedspread, knuckles white from the force of her grip, as she trained her eyes on him, hoping, perhaps foolishly, for some kind of response (when was the last time, she wondered, that he had told her he loved her back?).

But Henry kept his gaze down, on the book in still in cradled to his chest. Quietly, he said, "I know."

The words left unsaid were another wound to her heart, no less painful for how familiar it was now becoming. But before it could fester, Henry suddenly moved, placing a hand over hers. It was warm and soft-and still so small, but also so much bigger than the last time she remembered it being. The wound scarred over, just a little, the slight touch a soothing balm. Regina looked down at her son, at the sweet, kind, lonely and angry little boy who was every inch hers.

Henry said nothing, would not even look her in the eye, but he squeezed her hand, just once, before he pulled away again. For a moment, the sudden distance, no matter how short it was, made her heart jump. As always, Regina felt the instinctive need to hold on to the things she loved most, forever terrified of letting go lest they leave her forever. But she knew if she tried to take his hand again, he would only slip away. So instead, she offered up a small, tremulous smile. Perhaps it was small, but it was progress. For both of them.

When her eyes landed on the book again, Regina shook her head swiftly, haltingly trying to explain, as if it might somehow help, "I'm just worried-there are people out there, Henry… You can't trust just anyone…" Gesturing vaguely at the book still his hands, she willed him to understand. "I just want to _protect_ you."

Shaking his head in exasperation, Henry sighed. "Mom, I'm not a _baby_. You don't need to protect me anymore." If the book wasn't still practically stuck to his chest, he would probably cross his arms and pout too.

"You'll always be _my_ baby." Regina corrected, before deflating. "I know you are old enough to do some things on your own, as well as make your own decisions. But, sweetheart, they aren't always the _right_ ones." Frowning, she pointed out, "Like traveling all the way to Boston alone, for example."

To his credit, Henry did look a little apologetic at that. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, not as sincerely as Regina would have liked, but enough. "Are you going to punish me?"

The part of Regina that was so easily swayed by her son's pleading looks, as well as the part of her that was always terrified of becoming like her mother, didn't like to punish her son. When they had been together, it had always been Emma, who was the disciplinarian of the two of them. It was a strange role reversal, considering the blonde was typically the " _fun mom_ ", while she was the " _responsible mom_ ", who cooked him food and washed his clothes.

But Emma wasn't here. So, trying to find that balance between stern and loving, she told him firm as she could, "Yes. You're grounded for a month. No video games and you come home straight from school every day."

Henry frowned, clearly not happy about such terms, but he did not object, much to her surprise. He only shrugged moodily, looking away again as he asked, "Can I go to sleep now?"

Glancing at the book still between them, Regina thought about asking again. Instead, she only nodded at him, "Of course."

Then, with slightly less grace than usual, she stood up, allowing Henry full access to his bed once more. It had been a long night, for all of them. Though there were still a thousand things to between them, this was enough of a start. She hoped.

Henry busied himself with getting underneath the bedcovers, and Regina started towards the door, closing the lights as she did so. In the dark of the night, her son's shadowed form in the bed looked even more vulnerable.

It took all of her willpower to force herself close the door on that. But she did, and success had never tasted more bitter on her tongue.


	7. The Night

**Trigger warning: some talk on alcohol addiction and allusions to substance abuse**

 **A/N: In canon, Regina has her issues with magic. It's been likened as a metaphor for addiction before, so here, it's sort of exactly that. There's no magic in this world, but there are certainly vices that can function similarly. Yes, this is one of the reasons behind the divorce, but far from the only one. Like Regina says, they were/are two broken people. They both have their issues that contributed to the end of their relationship. This is just one of Regina's**

* * *

Afterwards, Regina stood outside her son's bedroom door for entirely too long, listening for every tiny scrap of sound she could hear through the loud pounding of her own heart. The stillness of the hallway was suffocating, and when the soft scratches of movement through the door tapered off as well, there was only her own beating heart to drown in. For the sake of whatever sanity she had left, she forced herself to walk away then, even though the movement felt like she was treading through water while wearing a hundred-pound suit.

Eventually, Regina reached her bedroom, and the sound of it sliding open with a soft groan seemed to echo loudly in the near oppressive silence of the house. She winced, and made a mental note to oil it, though it was likely to slip her mind again, as it had the last few times. There was simply far too much for her to do and too many thoughts in her head most of the time, to be able to keep up with every little thing. Being a single working mother was no easy feat, after all, especially not when her son was as stubborn as Henry was, and her work was running an entire town at was practically her second baby.

It had been easier, when she'd had someone to carry the load with, when there had been another adult in this house. Someone to share the large master bedroom with, Regina thought ruefully, as she made her way inside and closed the door with a marginally softer creak. Her eyes slid towards the queen-sized bed that was honestly too big for one person, especially since she'd always had the habit of curling up during sleep.

Unlike Emma, she recalled. Her ex-wife had always spread out, like a starfish, as though unconsciously trying to claim as much of the space as she could. She also had a tendency to cling to her like a limpet, and Regina had often awoke with limbs thrown across her. Depending on her mindset, they had left her feeling alternately suffocated and safe, sometimes even at the same time ( _she had learned long ago, that_ love was weakness _, that it was_ pain).

Now, there was nothing but emptiness and shadows to keep her company. In the time they'd been seeing each other secretly, Graham had only slept over once, while Henry had been staying at a friend's house. It had been strange, to sleep through the night with someone at her side again.

Much like her ex-wife, he also liked to hold onto to her, though less tightly, without the unspoken desperation to make her stay that had so underlined every touch for the once orphan girl. No, he'd held her gently, carefully, even in sleep, handling her like she was some injured animal in need of comfort instead of a lover. Some part of that reminded her of Daniel, even now, so many years later the thought of him sent a quiet pang through her heart. But Daniel had been different, and she'd been different then, with him. Now, the tenderness did not soothe, only reminded her of all her _broken_ pieces.

Sometimes, she thought that the only reason she and Emma had worked so well together was the way their jagged edges fit against each other. There had been other things, but it was their mutual scars that had so drawn them to each other, that had created this unspoken connection.

Two broken pieces rarely make a whole.

They had learned that the hard way, and come out of their encounter more ragged than ever. Their jagged edges had cut against each other, when they'd forgotten, just how easy it was to slip into those darker instincts. No matter how much they had hurt each other though, it was Henry who suffered the most, caught between their fire. Regina had plenty of regrets in her life, but that most of all. Despite their best intentions, they'd managed to taint their beloved son with their own demons after all.

The thought of her son made her want to rush out and go back to him, to take him into his arms, to breathe out desperate apologies and more hopeless promises that she could never hope to keep. The urge was there, always, but even more so tonight. Her earlier breakdown and the conversation they'd shared was enough to hammer home what a terrible idea it would be. _Dear god,_ the _last_ thing she wanted was for her son to see how _broken_ his mother truly was, not when he already had a far better idea than he should. But Regina had never been able to do the right thing, not in matters of the heart.

 _Neither had Emma_ , she remembered. It was just one more thing they shared between them. Even though it would likely hinder more than it would help, she could not help but wish she was here with her now. The weight of it all, of their son, pressed down on her, and she had never yearned more for someone to carry the weight along with her. Her eyes slid toward the window, and Regina wondered if her ex-wife was also in a bed at Granny's, thinking about the past and how it had all gone so wrong.

The thought made her heart ache in a different way, so she quickly forced herself away from the window, moving towards the bathroom instead, sliding into the familiar comfortable routine of getting ready for bed instead. It was one that she had done before she had even met Emma, and one she continued to do long after. There had been a time, when it had been broken up by a needy baby's cry, or an older toddler's call, but those times were long past. The sudden silence after that had started to bother her, so she'd started playing music in the background.

Now, the soft, soothing tones of a slow jazz number wove through the air as she moved around the bathroom. They created an almost magical air, and Regina felt her shoulders start to relax. It was hard, to put away the swirling mess of thoughts that clamored for attention in her head, but the familiar motions of her evening absolutions managed to lull her into an almost meditative state. There was something comforting, in mindlessly going through her daily routine, and the music and its calming aura helped too. It accompanied her even after she'd finished, and finally stepped out of the bathroom, face bare and dressed in a dark purple nightgown.

When she reached the dresser where the speakers continued to blast out the song, she hesitated for a moment before switching it off. Then, silence reigned once more. A bit of tension leaked back into her shoulders, and she resisted the urge to glance out the window again. Instead, she pointedly kept her gaze away, before closing the bedroom lights and slipping underneath the bedcovers.

But she did not find sleep, not for a long time. She could only watch the shadows play out on the ceiling, the thoughts she'd briefly managed to keep at bay, rushing back in at full force. Eventually, she gave up, realizing there was no sleep to be found like this.

Swiftly getting up, almost immediately, she headed straight for a locked cabinet, where a bottle of whiskey and a glass laid waiting for her, once she opened it. As soon as it was open, however, she hesitated.

Most of the alcohol was kept in the liquor cabinet in the study, with the cellar storing the older, larger bottles, as well as the unfinished cider she herself made. But after the fiftieth sleepless night she'd suffered, Regina had started keeping at least one bottle close at hand inside the bedroom. It wasn't exactly a habit she wanted to encourage, especially on a school night, but desperation had proved to be quite the motivator.

Still, though she ached for a little bit of that alcohol-laced numbness, Regina couldn't quite bring herself to move. Now that she was up and faced with it, she was also faced with the fact that this was a terrible idea. She wanted to think she was better than this. More than that, she wanted to think she was over this. She had never been an alcoholic exactly. But more than a few times, it had seemed like a line to thread, and she could still remember how one glass could so easily spiral into five. It was an all too familiar spiral, and she remembered the moment she'd realized she might have exchanged one addiction for another.

Swallowing hard, she looked at the bottle in her hands for several long moments, debating what to do. _Only for tonight,_ she told herself. It had been an extremely stressful and exhausting day, after all. She needed to sleep. Already, she could feel her demons clawing in, at the edges of her consciousness, looking for weakness. _She needed this_ , she reasoned, with all the desperate logic of a starving man.

So, Regina gave in. She reached for the glass first, mechanically going to the bathroom to give it a quick rinse before she returned to the task of pouring herself a drink. Though her raced in her chest, her hands were steady and sure. Not a drop of amber liquid was spilled before she pressed her lips to the glass and felt the familiar burn slide down her throat. It took a few strong gulps, and a few moments of pause before she felt the effects of the whiskey start to set in. The haze was like a comforting blanket over her mind, and she could feel her whole body begin to relax. Not completely, because that was only possible with the help of another vice, but it was _enough_.

Though part of her itched for more, she firmly screwed the lid back on instead. After a quick rinse to clean the glass, she placed both it and the bottle inside the cabinet again, carefully locking it after. Then, she made her way back to bed, crawling underneath the covers with a soft sigh. Her eyes slid close, and she allowed herself to be lulled into the blissful blankness of sleep, guided by the warm incorporeal hands of the whiskey in her bloodstream.


	8. The Friend

**A/N: Emma's POV! It will stay in hers for the next chapter too, then we'll be going back to Regina's again.**

* * *

Though it had been a long time since she'd last been inside its borders, Emma could still navigate the routes inside Storybrooke with ease, as her hands turned the wheel and stepped on the pedals on instinct more than anything. Even with only half a mind on the road, there was very little danger of getting lost in the small town.

Eventually, the blonde reached the familiar cozy-looking bed and breakfast, as well as the attached diner. The sight of it pulled an unconscious smile out of her, and she had not realized until this moment, how much she had missed it. During her earliest days in this town, the first time, she'd stayed here, under the stern, steely-eyed care of Granny and her far more vivacious granddaughter, Ruby. Though it had been comparatively short, especially compared to the years she had spent at the mansion she could never forget her time here, nor the two she had grown especially close to.

More than the place, Emma missed the people, who she had grown to know so well, before everything had gone so wrong, and she'd had to leave. Granny probably had a lot to say about that, she thought, wincing a little. The old woman was not one to mince words, and though the blonde was typically glad for the honesty, however brutal, she was not looking forward to getting chewed out. Especially not tonight, after meeting with Regina again, and having their first real conversation in forever.

At least, Ruby would probably be kinder, not least because she was one of the only people she continued to keep in touch with in town, albeit only through the occasional text or facebook message. Mostly, it was the dark-haired woman relaying town gossip, or complaining about work, and Emma making sporadic vague updates on her life or sending ridiculous pointless memes back. It was just how she liked it, the only way she could accept it, really, so, Ruby became one of the few connections she still retained in the small town, besides her ex-wife and son.

There had been others, who had tried to reach out, after Emma had run off to Boston. But, unlike the rest, Ruby had never asked for explanations or expected her to even set foot in Storybrooke again. The waitress didn't judge, didn't ever poke around at the past or into Emma's plans for the future, and she didn't ever being up Regina, even though she shared news and gossip about everyone else in town, down to Pongo the dalmatian's latest attempts to break free from his owner's leash.

Once, Emma had drawn up enough courage (helped along by a lot of its liquid version) to ask _why_ , dialing the number by memory and hearing the other woman's voice for the first time in months. Though she had given no further context, Ruby had seemed to know exactly what she was asking. Even so, she had not replied for a long while, long enough that Emma had winced and started quickly backtracking out of the conversation, but Ruby's reply had cut off the pathetic attempts immediately.

"Because, I know this is all you're able to give me right now." The voice had been soft, like a sigh, the tinge of resignation mixed with sadness had made her heart twist. "I still care about you, Emma, and consider you one of my best friends. If this is the only way I can show that, then, well, I'll take it."

Emma hadn't known what to say to that, had felt the familiar fester of guilt, before Ruby had broken the silence with some tidbit of town gossip or other, where Leroy had gotten drunk again, nearly getting banned by Granny when he'd started getting rowdy in the diner with the _toaster_ , and Emma had choked out a laugh that probably went on longer than the anecdote deserved.

After, they had never spoken of it again, but Emma had never forgotten, even if their interaction suggested otherwise. It wasn't exactly a deep soul-sharing friendship, especially compared to how the two of them used to be. But considering how most of her " _friendships_ " were like these days, it practically was. It was about all she could handle, anyway. Hadn't she learned, after everything that had happened, that anything more only led to disaster?

Now though, she was facing her friend again, meeting in person for the first time since she'd left Storybrooke. Ruby's kindness and continued friendship made her heart twist with guilt as much as it brought relief, and sometimes, she wasn't sure what to do with it. Emma almost hoped for Granny instead. At least she knew what to expect there, and maybe, a bit of chewing out was just what she deserved. Besides, it had always been easier to deal with people's disappointment than people's expectations.

Parking her Bug quickly, Emma got her meagre possessions out of the trunk, thankful that experience taught her to always keep a small go bag handy, no matter where she was going. It was only enough for a few days though, so she'd have to take advantage of the laundry room at some point. Still, better than having nothing but the clothes on her back (there were probably still some of her things back in the manor, but she didn't want to think about that).

Duffel bag in hand, she crossed to the sidewalk. Granny's Diner was closed for business already, but the bed and breakfast still had lights on. It was pretty late for a guest check-in probably, especially without a reservation, but Storybrooke was hardly bursting with tourists so she doubted it would too much of a problem. Granny could just add it to the laundry list of things to chew her out for, anyway. What was one more? Steeling herself for the inevitable reunion, she made the short walk to the front desk.

Familiar dark hair, with its signature red streak, popped into view. Emma wasn't sure if she was happy or disappointed that it wasn't Granny instead. Regardless of her feelings, she gave a small, slightly awkward wave to her old friend. It had been a long time since she'd last seen her, but she hadn't changed much. Maybe her hair was a little longer, or the red streak was a little darker, but overall, Ruby looked just as she was remembered. Well, except for the comical look of shock on her face, that was.

Ruby's reaction was funny enough she regretted not videotaping it. Her jaw dropped open as she gaped at her for a few long moments. Then, as it sunk in, she quickly jumped up, sliding out of her seat with a fluid grace that Emma was envious of. There wasn't much time to dwell on it though, because she was quickly engulfed in a tight, painful hug. Thankfully for her ribs, Ruby let go after a few seconds.

" _Emma!_ I didn't know you were in town." The question in the statement was obvious, as the waitress knew better than most how badly Emma had needed to get away from Storybrooke. Raising a brow, Ruby said, with a note of accusation in her voice, "You didn't tell me you were coming."

"Uh, it wasn't really a planned trip." Emma replied, a little sheepishly, feeling a twinge of guilt again that she tried her best to ignore. Hand rubbing at the back of her neck, she explained, "Henry kind of went to Boston all on his own, without telling Regina. I was just dropping him back off here."

Ruby's eyes went wide again, and there was clear concern in those dark orbs. "The sheriff had us on alert, out looking for him, but he didn't say anything about that." She added, in a tone that was half-impressed, half-disbelieving, "I guess it's no surprise your kid is able to run all the way to Boston at ten years old though."

Though she knew the other woman didn't mean it that way, Emma could not help wincing, even as she conceded, "Right."

"Oh, Emma, _no_." Ruby shook her head quickly, eyes wide. "I just meant, well-when I was his age, I could only manage to run away to the bus stop before Granny caught me." A self-deprecating chuckle accompanied this, and Emma joined in, tense shoulders relaxing as she did so.

"Henry's definitely something." The blonde agreed, a clear note of pride in her voice.

"Anyway, I'm guessing you didn't just drop by here to tell me this?" Ruby asked, before she could even say anything. Without even waiting for a reply, she added, with an easy grin, "I'll get you a room for the night."

Emma nodded, returning the smile a bit more sheepishly, as she corrected, "Uh, could you make it for a week?"

For the third time that night, a look of surprise crossed the waitress' face. " _Really?_ "

Uncomfortable with the wide-eyed stare on her, Emma shrugged, hands digging into her pockets. She explained quickly, trying to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal (even if it was, and both of them knew it), "Henry asked me to stay, and Regina agreed. There's not much point in going back to Boston when it's almost my time with him anyway."

It wasn't the only reason, or even the biggest reason why, but it was the only one she felt able to say out loud (the other reason involved dark pleading eyes and tentative smiles and the trembling of her heart).

Somehow, Ruby seemed to see it anyway, looking at her with all too knowing eyes before handing her a key. "Here. It comes with a complimentary breakfast at the diner."

"Thanks." Emma said, trying to convey as best she could that she meant it (for more than just this), as she took the key, before giving a somewhat awkward goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Ruby only grinned. "It's good to have you back, Em."

The blonde replied with a small grin of her own, giving a short wave as she turned away to head to her room for the week. Though it was impossible to forget why she'd left in the first place, Emma had to admit, it felt a little good to be back in Storybrooke too. No matter how far she had run, some part of her always felt drawn back to the small town that had captured her heart so long ago.


End file.
